


Decontamination

by Smehur



Category: Mass Effect Trilogy
Genre: M/M, Slash
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-04
Updated: 2018-07-04
Packaged: 2019-06-05 09:05:42
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,090
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15167306
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Smehur/pseuds/Smehur
Summary: Kal and Veetor meet for some well-deserved and highly-anticipated alone time, but proper health and safety protocols must be observed before they can get on with it.





	Decontamination

**Author's Note:**

> Originally posted on Mass Effect Kink Meme years ago.

The unnatural silence permeating everything inside Veetor’s cubicle on the Rayya suddenly becomes too heavy and Kal clears his throat.

“So who was that girl you were talking to?” he says, too loud for the little room and they both jump. Nervous. Kal is nervous, and he doesn't know why. He’s only nervous before field assignments, and he still has two days of shore leave.

“Lia?” Veetor replies. “She’s just a visiting tech from the Vorrelle. Smart too.” _His_ voice is too quiet. Quieter than usual. Then he adds an uneasy chuckle. “Jealous?”

“Of course not,” Kal lies through his teeth. They sit for several heartbeats before he deflates. “Okay. Yes.”

Veetor chuckles again, shifts a bit, then stills. “Seriously?”

The space is so small that even with Kal sitting on the bed, on one side of the room, and Veetor on the floor, with his legs folded under his knees, on the other, they can hardly keep from touching. And they’re being ridiculous, _trying_ to keep from touching. Kal’s been hard for what feels like an eternity now. Probably why he's nervous.

So he waits a few seconds before answering. “Not really. I mean, I know we’re…” and he gestures awkwardly between them. “But when I see you talking to someone else like that…” He shakes his head.

Because Veetor doesn’t normally talk to anyone at all. He’s left the anxiety and the panic attacks behind him, but he’s still a nerd, shy and antisocial, and that's perfectly to Kal's taste. Seeing him blabbing on with like that makes him want to… well. It makes him want to tie Veetor to the bed with legs spread far apart and fuck him until he can’t remember his own name, let alone some Lia. Or whatever.

“Say something,” he demands after a while.

“I…” Veetor starts, then chuckles again. Kal studies him in the yellow half-light coming from the display on the decontamination unit. There’s a substantial bulge between Veetor’s legs now and the sight of it makes the wait almost unbearable. “I think that’s hot,” Veetor concludes.

The silence ebbs away, replaced by the sounds of their breathing. Kal is biting his lower lip, remembering the taste of Veetor’s warm, moist mouth.  He exhales impatiently, fogging the mask for a moment.

Veetor shifts again, then glances at the unit. “Three minutes seventy-four seconds to go.”

“Bosh’tet.”

Kal tries to kill the time by staring around, but it’s all become so familiar there’s nothing to engage his thoughts, focused without mercy on the pulsing of his cock inside the suit. The need to turn on the nerve stimulator becomes acute.

“Don’t even think about it,” Veetor warns. How did he guess? Kal looks down and is surprised to find that his hand has somehow slid from his knee, resting now on his inner thigh. Since it’s there already, he might as well use it.

“What, this?” He runs his thumb over his aching erection, and lets out a deliberate hiss.

“Two can play that game.”

And to Kal’s pleasure, Veetor mimics the movement, massaging himself through the suit. He arches into his own hand with the hips, and Kal licks his lips, rubbing himself a bit harder. It’s been too long. They really ought to do this much more often.

Well, not _this_. This they can do this any time they’re alone. Watch one another. Or rub together. Through the suits. Everything is simple, as long as the suits can stay on. For anything more, you have to use the fancy sound-isolation curtains and apply the air seals to the walls and run the antiquated decontamination unit that you found on the Zar for “only” two-thirds of your monthly pay.

But it’s all good, as long as he gets to _touch_ his lover in the end. “Come here,” he breathes, and Veetor tumbles over, approaching on all fours and finally straddling Kal on the bed. He puts a hand down between Kal’s legs and presses hard into his rock-solid cock, then rubs his own against the other side of his arm.

“Don’t you dare come,” he whispers.

“Yes sir.”

Veetor giggles, then rubs against him and _fuck_ , that just feels so damn good. Kal wants to grab him, pin him to the floor and dry-hump him until they melt in the slickness of the wetted suits.

“How long?”

“Two forty.”

“Keelah. I want you _now_.”

In reply, Veetor maneuvers closer, flattening his hips on top of Kal’s, until their cocks are pressed together. Then he starts moving in a slow, agonizing rhythm. “I want you too, Kal,” he whispers. The easy sincerity of the simple statement turns Kal’s blood to fucking plasma, but Veetor doesn’t stop there. “I want your big, fat, cock inside me,” he says, just like that, accenting each word with a hip-bump. A few months back, he couldn’t say ‘fuck’ to save his life, but Kal has corrupted him. Oh yes he has. And Veetor has loved it, every step of the way, every wet thrust into his hot little mouth, into his tight little ass.

Kal can’t help it: his hands go up Veetor’s thighs, then grab his bottom and stretch the cheeks apart. An admission of need, a declaration of intent: Veetor likes to know how much he's wanted. It turns him on.  And hearing him sigh in delight, knowing that under the suit, he’s throbbing in response, feeds right back into Kal’s arousal, turning him on in return. In truth, _everything_ turns them on. Sometimes all it takes is sharing a long look over a room full of people for them both to sizzle up like so much liquid helium.

Which is about how Kal is feeling right now.  He groans. “Maybe we can take the gloves off?”

“Maybe,” Veetor drawls softly. Damn, who could have guessed he’d turn out to be such a tease? He yanks Veetor down, holds him there for a good hard rub.

“Ahhh... Kal…” The words die off as he rolls his head back. Fuck, he’s hot. He’s so hot that Kal is now seriously doubting he’ll make it through the decontamination cycle.

“I can’t wait no more,” he hisses through gritted teeth. “I’m getting out of this thing.”

“No.” Veetor backs away and gets up, leaving a patch of disappointing coolness over Kal’s legs. “Just another minute.”

Kal crosses his arms over his chest and pouts under the mask like a child. He knows it already: this is going to be the longest minute of his fucking life. And Veetor doesn’t mean to make it easier on him. He takes one step back – that’s about as far as he _can_ step back – and leans on the wall, then runs his hands over his chest, his narrow waist, and lower. Kal drinks in every movement, but his eyes naturally gravitate to Veetor’s crotch, which he is now stroking. Damn suits! Kal has to touch himself again because he’s so turned on it hurts. He bucks up to meet his hand, and sees Veetor press harder in response. Damn!

And then the decontamination unit lets out a pleasant beep. The light turns from yellow to green, and Veetor lifts his mask in one smooth, fluid motion, revealing his beautiful, young, smiling face. “Well, come on!”

“Yes sir,” Kal replies and gets up, taking his mask off too. Before anybody does anything else, he needs to kiss his lover. He presses into Veetor with all the urgency of his desire, tongues wrestling, teeth clinking, but after the first wave passes, the kiss becomes slow and sensual and Kal melts in it, forgetting everything, everything! Even his unrelenting hard-on.

He backs up, takes his gloves off and throws them away, so that he can hold Veetor’s face in his hands. “I missed you,” he says between hushed, hungry kisses. “Keelah, I missed this so much.”

Veetor doesn’t reply. He pushes Kal back a bit, gives him a priceless shy smile, an irresistible blush blossoming on his cheeks, and starts taking off the suit. That reminds Kal of what they have set out to do. He too gets to work, and little by little, they discard the second skin and stand naked, devouring one another with burning eyes.

They move at the same time. Warm palms, re-learning each other’s body.  Skin soft and slightly moist, alive and breathing and _feeling_. In these first moments after peeling off the suits, it’s as if each individual nerve is stripped, laid bare, freshly awoken from a deep slumber and everything feels new. Every touch is like a plucked string, sending ripples of shivery sensation over the entire body. Veetor’s fingers are playing a symphony over Kal’s back, sneaking up his spine and neck, live current feeding right into his brainstem. It feels like direct neural stimulation. Fuck, it feels _better_ than direct neural stimulation.

Kal’s hands are slightly wrinkled from sweating inside the gloves and that makes the contact with Veetor’s exposed skin even closer, even more complete. His wiry, young muscles dance to the tune of Kal’s impatient touches, tremble and writhe under his lips. What it is to touch him! On an impulse that cannot be denied, Kal grabs Veetor’s wrists, pins them to the wall above his head with one hand, and fists the other around his cock. He smothers Veetor’s body under the weight of his own and breathes fiercely into his ear:

“Mine, you hear? Mine.”

“Yes,” comes the strangled whisper, but then Kal pumps him in several firm, long strokes and Veetor lets out a proper, pleading moan. “Yes!”

Kal smiles into his ear, then gives it a wet kiss, probing the depths with the tip of his tongue and sending his breath to chase after it. The way he can work Veetor into hissing in time with his strokes – short, abdominal exhales going ah-ah-ah-ah – makes his hips twitch. His own crotch is glued to the hollow of Veetor’s hip, the bulb of his erection squeezed so perfectly between their bodies that even the slightest movements send ripples of pleasure down his cock and make him want to scream. He traces the curve of Veetor’s jaw down to the chin with his tongue until he plants another deep, slow kiss on those wet lips, and the panting turns into nasal nh-nh-nh-nh that threatens to push them both over the edge.

“Not yet,” he declares and steps away, leaving Veetor to cling to the wall, eyes closed and mouth open, tongue trailing over his upper lip and chest straining as if he’s been racing. “On the bed.”

Veetor replies with a dizzy nod, runs his hands between his legs, then stumbles forward until he’s kneeling on the cot on all fours. There’s something both feral and unbearably cute about the way he looks up at Kal, awaiting instructions, eyes alight with unspeakable hunger. Kal’s heart skips a beat. He swallows, then steps forward and feeds his cock into Veetor’s welcoming mouth.

“Oh yeah,” he breathes, feeling first the moist heat of his lover’s breath, then the touch of his dark lips, raw from kissing, glistening in the twilight. Veetor always starts like that: kissing the very tip, molding his lips around it with a just enough suction to make Kal curse. He parts his teeth and tastes the slit, prying it apart with his tongue. Kal lowers his hands on the sides of Veetor’s head and nudges gently – although what he wants is to thrust in, hip-deep. “Take it in.”

Veetor obeys, closes his eyes, starts gliding to and fro.

“Yeah,” Kal huffs, head falling back and rolling between his shoulders. “Yeah, baby.” He blows his breath out in controlled bursts but there’s little he can do to fight the overwhelming sensory assault. Veetor knows all the spots, Veetor knows all the tricks, and mmmh, yeah, _right there_. It's always taken him weeks, if not months to train a lover in the way he likes his cock sucked, but Veetor is a fucking natural. He’s also a fucking tease, and doesn’t move only his head: his entire body takes part, especially his bottom, which he perches high and rolls up and down in a way Kal can’t ignore. Two dark spots are blossoming on his cheeks in exact symmetry where his ass had been pressed to the wall before and the urge to touch them is irresistible.

Kal moves one hand to the back of Veetor’s head, guiding him, and the other gropes around on the hot surface of the decontamination unit for the things they have prepared: a pair of padded cuffs, a brand new Titanium Bullet (with a micro ME core that’s supposed to mimic biotic stimulation) that they have yet to try out, and a vial of Inviscid. That’s what he was after, but now Veetor has his hand around Kal's cock and is rocking it into his mouth while sucking on the tip.

“Shit,” Kal hisses. A blissful weakness loosens his thighs, and he has to lean on the wall over Veetor’s body for balance. “Fuck...” he gasps as Veetor disengages in order to give him a round of fast-paced strokes, fingers gliding expertly over the top, and only returns to sucking him off when Kal starts twitching and groaning over his breath.

Just in time. After setting one knee on the bed, Kal squirts some lube over his fingers, then reaches for that dancing little ass. Veetor stills, trembles slightly at the contact with cold liquid as Kal spreads the lube inside his crack, but his throat is still working around Kal’s cock and it's so damn _tight_ there -  Kal clenches his teeth, worms in one knuckle, then another, then shuts his eyes as the warm softness closes around his finger, dragging him deeper. The muffled moans Veetor is making vibrate through his groin, carving a path of flaming need all the way up to his chest, lighting the fuse. He must fuck him now, or he’ll fucking _die_.

Veetor knows. Long gone are the days when they needed to say such things out loud. He licks Kal clean, placing one last kiss there, at the very tip, then turns around to present his puckered little hole. Kal grunts and climbs the bed himself, pushing Veetor forward until his head is resting on his arms in the corner, chest flat on the crumpled covers, and those eyes, those fiery, pleading eyes shining over his shoulder in the ultimate challenge. Before plunging in, Kal runs his slippery hand under his lover, nesting the other in the nape of his neck, and wraps a firm fist around Veetor’s rock-solid erection. Nowhere to run now. He knows he won’t last a minute and that’s fine. The decontamination unit will keep them busy for many hours to come anyway.

“Come on, Kal,” Veetor exhales, a hot little whisper and a momentary tremor in his spread-out muscles. Kal has lost the ability to speak, and can only grunt in reply, can only move in reply. He slides in – careful, now, careful – until his hips meet the hot flesh of Veetor’s bottom, then leans down to whisper some sweet nonsense, to lick that ear again, to feel the hot breath on his face and take in the musky smell of sweat and sex. More importantly, he waits for Veetor to move under him, give him the “go go go” after which Kal can “do whatever he wants.” There was a time when they used to have entire conversations, connected like this. His mind goes back to their first, clumsy, messy, out-of-suit encounter that ended in giving one another a good old handjob with lots of sloppy kissing, Kal cursing and Veetor blushing. He remembers the day by one of the longest, most devastating orgasms in his entire life.  The memory makes him swell all the more.

“Go,” Veetor whispers. It’s the magic word. Kal starts to move and loses himself within seconds. Every fiber of his being knots and coils and he can’t stop, he doesn’t ever want to stop. Veetor is making those sounds again, a perfect mixture of disarmingly cute and completely obscene, and he is making those stifled little movements in Kal’s arms, because there’s nowhere to go, no room to bob, trapped between the bed and Kal’s pounding hips, lodged desperately inside Kal’s iron fist. It’s all about Veetor, for Kal; it’s making him cry like this, and sweat like this, and strain to fuck himself into Kal’s hand like this – that is what rolls him over the precipice.

“Fuck!” he groans between clenched teeth as a series of wild spasms shakes his body, and he feels Veetor trembling under him, making him _explode_ in a blast wave that strips him of everything but the need to lodge himself ever deeper, pump ever harder. The world fades into a white, liquid void, blotches of violet and yellow blossoming over his vision.   He closes his eyes as the violent aftershocks ripple through both their bodies, his awareness reaching out to his lover, feeling him, becoming one with him.

Slowly, drunkenly, the reality of the little room and their entangled limbs comes back. A lazy shift, a well-practiced movement, and Kal is curled up behind Veetor, holding him, enfolding him. “You ok?” he whispers.

“Ha,” Veetor says and Kal can hear the smile on his lips. Then his hand is caught and brought up to feel the warm – hot! – flush on Veetor’s cheeks. Kal cups his face, then touches his mouth; Veetor’s breath is still coming out in shallow, hurried outbursts. He kisses Kal’s fingertips, wets them with his tongue. “You think the sound curtain held?”

“I don’t give a damn. Let them listen.”

Veetor chuckles, then sneezes.

“What the fuck.” Kal props himself up and studies Veetor in alarm as he wipes his nose with the back of his hand, then looks up, eyes teary but unmistakably happy.

“I don’t give a damn, Kal.”

Kal considers. If that bosh’tet sold him a faulty decontamination unit, he’s going to get a rocket up his fucking recycling port. “Probably just dust,” he says aloud. “But maybe you should put the suit back on, just in case.”

“I don’t give a damn,” Veetor insists. They regard one another for several beats.  Kal's leave expires in two days and if he gets sick… but even before the question is asked, he knows the answer. “Do you?”

Kal replies by giving him a deep, sensual kiss. “You're not getting rid of me that easy.”


End file.
